


epiphany

by uchiharvno



Series: passed down like folk songs, our love lasts so long [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), the dimileth dance that never was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25989103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uchiharvno/pseuds/uchiharvno
Summary: “I don’t mind,” Byleth says, voice as cool as ever, “if you kept me all to yourself.”
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Series: passed down like folk songs, our love lasts so long [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887400
Comments: 5
Kudos: 102





	epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> “only twenty minutes to sleep/ but you dream of some epiphany/ just one single glimpse of relief/ to make some sense of what you've seen/ with you i serve, with you i fall down.” 
> 
> \- epiphany // t.s.

“At a time like this, perhaps it would make more sense for me to wish that we’ll be together forever. What do you think?” 

Silence stretches between them and it takes Dimitri a couple more seconds to realize that he had spoken aloud. He had voiced his most embarrassing thoughts and Byleth only stares at him, eyes wide and seemingly at a loss for words. 

How utterly embarrassing. Awkwardly, he fakes a laugh. “Wait now, Professor! You must admit I’ve improved in the art of joke telling.”

Predictably, she is unimpressed and he is apologetic, mortified, as is always the case. It was a thoughtless, careless thing to say. The two of them know more than anyone else that even the simple promise of tomorrow is a ludicrous thought, being a veteran mercenary and a crown prince keen on vengeance. Especially in these tumultuous times, with the Church under threat and they’re being deployed on missions more frequently. There are no rules on the battlefield; one wrong step, a figure missed in his peripheral, a slip of the hand, the smallest oversight could cost him his life. 

But perhaps he’d gotten carried away when his house began speaking of a reunion, five years from now. In this moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if they would all still be alive then… 

“We should head back soon,” he says, immediately vanquishing the thought from his head as he dons a smile once again. His full proof mask. “It’s rude of me to keep you all to myself. Shall we, Professor?” 

She’s practically glowing in the moonlight as she stares up at him. She cocks her head slightly to the side and one of those rare smiles graces her lips and− _thank goddess_ , it’s dark and she couldn’t see the flush running from his neck up.

“I don’t mind,” Byleth says, voice as cool as ever, “if you kept me all to yourself.”

Dimitri is even more thankful when she walks past him to lean against the tower’s cold stone walls, unable to see how flustered he is, nearly choked up and completely devoid of his usual composure. Byleth doesn’t seem to realize what she’s said, so the prince only takes a deep breath and calms himself before joining her to sit on the ground. He only steals a single glance at her before following her gaze towards the night sky up ahead; her eyes are shining with the light of the stars. 

It’s quiet up here, save for the faintest hint of the music from the ball, the pounding of his heart in his throat, and the rush of blood in his ears. Then she does the unexpected and lets her head fall against his shoulder. She must find it uncharacteristic of herself, as well, because she’s awkward and stiff against him. It takes a few more heartbeats before she relaxes, the tension leaving her body with a pleasant sigh. 

He softens, too. The professor is different−he’s pointed this out a few times but it never fails to catch him off guard. She had been a fortress upon their first meeting; always on guard and prepared for anything. She had seemed cold and distant; unreadable and impenetrable. But now, there’s a difference in Byleth in battle and Byleth in the monastery, Byleth with the Blue Lions. Leaning against him now, Dimitri realizes that she’s comfortable with him−as she is with the rest of their House, of course−comfortable enough to have her walls down. 

Maybe he’s changed, too. Dimitri is a fortress of his own and he would never let her see through his facade, but he’s given her a sliver of his truth. A glimpse into his nightmares, into his insecurities, given her as much of his vulnerability as he could afford to give another person. He _trusts_ her, he realizes, _deeply_. And so he rests his head against hers, as well. 

Closing his eyes, he listens to the quiet hum of the wind and her soft breathing, his fingers tapping against his knee in tune with the distant music. Only then does he remember that he didn’t even get the chance to dance with her at the ball, with her being so popular among his peers. How couldn’t she be? She’s so young, not that much older than the students of Garreg Mach but already as experienced as a Knight of Seiros. Her strategies are faultless and oh, how she fights with so much grace. She’s admirable, truly. And on top of that, she’s… breathtakingly beautiful. 

Dimitri had wanted to dance with her but another student had approached him before he could make his way to the professor, and he simply felt it would be rude to refuse the girl. By the time he was free, Byleth was already dancing with Claude. Then stolen by Sylvain and passed onto Ferdinand, before being dragged into a circle by Annette and Mercedes, along with Ingrid and Dorothea. Flames, even Edelgard had gotten to take her for a spin around the ballroom!

“Professor!” She starts when he suddenly speaks up. Dimitri rises to his feet and holds out a gloved hand, and with a smoothness he thinks Sylvain would proudly clap him on the shoulder for, he continued, “I believe you owe me a dance.” 

Byleth stares at his hand for a long moment before finally taking it. She pulls herself up, not with the grace of a lady being invited for a dance, but as though they are comrades picking each other up on the battlefield. Her movement is awkward and stocky for such a little girl, he couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

“I don’t know,” she says coyly, raising one hand with his while she rests the other on his shoulder. “I might not be able to keep up with the White Heron Cup winner.”

Dimitri rolls his eyes, grinning mirthfully. Inwardly, he chastised himself for the rude display towards his teacher. But she’s not Professor Eisner right now, she’s Byleth. Just Byleth. His… friend. And he places a firm hand on her waist and takes the first step. 

The two dance in the dark, under the pale moonlight, to music that barely reached their ears. 

It’s the same dance he’s danced with the girls of the monastery, but it feels entirely different with her. He’s not forcing himself to maintain eye contact, he’s not counting steps in his head, Edelgard’s chiding from when they were children isn’t ringing in his head. This feels natural, almost like they’re sparring. 

There’s an intensity in her eyes as she holds his gaze. She moves forward and he steps back, he twirls her around and she falls right into his arms. Against each other, with each other, Dimitri and Byleth move seamlessly. And it goes on for what seems like hours until he twirls her for the last time and lowers her in a graceful dip. 

His nose is nearly touching hers, her leg hooked over his, her chest rises and falls in sync with his as they catch their breaths. They don’t even realize that the festivities are over and the music has long ceased. All he seems to be aware of is her mouth, her parted lips so close and inviting. His mind wanders and he wonders how she tastes, if they feel as soft as they look… 

Byleth shivers against him. She clutches his shirt tighter and it’s enough to break him from his reverie. 

“P-Professor!” He immediately straightens up, gently setting her back onto her feet. “Y-You, uh… dance quite well…” 

Dimitri winces. He could _feel_ Sylvain cringing. 

Byleth mumbles a small thank you and it doesn’t escape him that she’s avoiding looking at him like he’s avoiding looking at her−and is he being tricked by his eyes and the poor lighting or is she actually _blushing_ , as well? But he pushes the thought aside and mentally berates himself. She’s simply flushed from the exertion. She’s his professor, for goddess’s sake! And someone of her caliber wouldn’t even think twice of someone as experienced as he. 

“It’s late,” she adds. “We should head back.” 

“Uh−I’ll be down in a bit, Professor. I’ll stay for a little longer.” 

He wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway. Be it the nightmares that haunt him even in his waking moments or the elation he feels right now as her touch lingers on his skin, he simply wouldn’t be at rest. But when her brows furrow with worry, he assures her that he will only take a minute. 

Byleth continues to frown at him, unconvinced. She relents anyway. But not without stepping closer and raising herself on her toes to press her lips firmly to his cheek. “Goodnight, Dimitri,” she murmurs softly, before walking away. 

Dumbfounded, he slowly reaches up to touch his cheek. It burns where she’s kissed him.

He thinks back on their conversation earlier and he thinks that whatever tomorrow brings, he has this. This night, this moment. And just before he leaves the tower, he bids another wish to the Goddess. 

Dimitri wishes for more.

**Author's Note:**

> purely self-indulgent drabble because the scene we got simply wasn’t enough and there were so many ways it could have gone !!!


End file.
